


Who Wants To Live Forever?

by orphan_account



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, Hope, M/M, head massages, just a drabble for my boyts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sledge was like an itch that he just couldn’t scratch.





	Who Wants To Live Forever?

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the short drabble, i needed to get this out  
> i reckon its very OOC but i love sledgefu and I NEEDE TO INDULGE

Sledge was like an itch that he just couldn’t scratch, not yet. He was annoying, was taking too long to mature into the nature of their surroundings, was too slow at accepting that they were at war. It was as if he was denying the truth; that he didn’t want to believe that he would inevitably die here. Someday. Snafu knew it, had known it since stepping onto the damn boat, that no matter which island the US Marine Corps took them to, he was destined to die with a bullet ripping through his flesh.

Snafu found Sledge tiring, yet mesmerising at the same time, he was truly one of a kind. He put up with Snafu’s awfulness, with his natural arrogance and questionable behaviour—perhaps it was because Sledge knew that by sticking with Snafu he’d last a little longer. Snafu was good with guns, he had sharp ears and a taste for Jap blood, he knew what he wanted and was going to get it one way or another. Yes, that was dangerous at times, it put them both at risk, but it was safer being with Snafu than it was alone.

Snafu liked Sledge. He was the cutest of their company, he thought. He had a strong nose but soft eyes, very soft eyes. They were always vulnerable and Snafu believed that it was impossible for them to harden—even with all that happened around them, the murder and bashing, the seemingly endless supply of blood that stained their clothes, the stench of rotting bodies that made any man’s eyes water with fear and disgust. Still, Sledge’s eyes were pure, innocent and forever searching for hope. Maybe that’s why Snafu liked him so damn much, there was always a spark of optimism within him and sometimes Snafu would catch onto it, despite _knowing_ that any day now he would be taking his last breath. His last look into those eyes. 

He was an itch. He shook Snafu to the core, much like the bombs the Japs rained down on them each night to keep them awake, torturing them—that was it. Sledge tortured Snafu. Without even knowing, he was torturing his comrade. Sledge didn’t want to understand why, didn’t bother looking that far into it, the answer wasn’t as difficult to come to as many’d think. It was a simple one and yet he wasn’t prepared to face it yet, couldn’t be fucked to. So he ignored it whenever it came up, but he did indulge. Oh boy, did he _love_ indulging in it.

He let Sledge be his itch. Snafu enjoyed the tone of his voice whenever he managed to piss Eugene off, the slap of a shoulder, the attempt to make those soft eyes dangerous looking (failing every time, and he knew it), it made Snafu feel warm inside. Maybe it was the attention from Sledge, maybe it was because the itch’s foundation was made up of enjoying pissing others off, or maybe it was just because he wanted to see every one of Sledge’s emotions. Wanted to see as much of him as possible before it was too late.

Snafu wanted to see that man cry, scream, yell, laugh, hiss, snarl, growl, snicker, giggle, chuckle, yelp, moan, groan, whimper, whine, _beg,_ mumble. He wanted to hear his name on Sledge’s lips in a variety of different ways; all his, all directed towards him, only for him to hear, to cherish and keep. He wanted it like an itch, but he couldn’t scratch. 

Scratching meant there would be two in the party, so far it was only him. He was a lone wolf with want. Snafu found himself quite okay with that, as long as he could spend as much time with the gorgeously annoying and trustworthy Sledgehammer as possible. That was all he wished for, to be with him.

“Is it hot today?” Eugene crowded into Snafu’s personal space, his 'personal bubble’ as those like to label it, he didn’t mind. He was willing to share whatever space he owned with Eugene Sledge.

Snafu peered around the back of another man’s shaven head, “Nah, she’s cold. Always cold.”

They were referring to chow that afternoon, it had rained earlier in the day and gave a few of the companies men goosebumps, but the sun was back up and that called for cold chow. 

“Thank god, I’m in need of a refresher,” Eugene sighed. Snafu turned his chin around to look at his friend, he was flushed in the cheeks, he looked overheated. 

“Isn’t that bad—y’know, to say ‘is name like that? Isn’t thatt’a thing you believers gotta look out for?” 

Eugene looked confused for a moment, unsure of what Snafu was alluding to, then let his eyebrows relax—Snafu liked that look on him; relaxation. Sometimes he’d spend half an hour at dawn looking over his slack face whenever they decided it was safer to share a foxhole. Sledge had always been asleep, of course, he wouldn’t have let Snafu otherwise. It brought him comfort, to see someone he cared about so dearly in that way, no deep creases of worry, or mouth pulled taut with anxiety over whether today would be his last. Snafu liked the privacy of it too, knowing that no one else was seeing Sledge like this — only him.

“Oh, I don’t think so, I wasn’t really speaking to God himself, I was only—“

“You did thank ‘im.” he pointed out.

Eugene nodded curtly, “I guess I did.” he turned his body back towards the man behind him, Snafu didn’t bothered looking over his face—their conversation was over. Pity. This chow could be their last meal. He really needed some of Sledge’s optimism right now.

They went without speaking during their food, which wasn’t so odd. It happened every now and then, Sledge would get picky with Snafu and let someone else deal with him for the time being. Snafu never minded either, he always knew Sledge would come back to him—that’s how they worked. They were the closest two in the company, and everyone knew it.

Sledge followed Snafu back to his foxhole that night, before the Japs decided to bombard them with any tree shrapnel. He apologised in the proximity of the frozen, solid ground and let Snafu card his fingers through his dirt-filled hair. What he was apologising for (ignoring him?) Snafu didn’t care for, he didn’t see the point in apologies, it is what it is. 

So he indulged in the itch. He let him palm lie curved against the warmth of Sledge’s skull, let his fingertips dig in a little to scratch at the scalp—massaging him. He pulled at fine hair by the back of his neck, allowed his thumb to glide across his ear as the rest of his fingers smoothing to hair back back behind the ear. He was gentle and kind, and loved every second of it.

“We’ll be home soon, I promise.” Eugene murmured into Snafu’s throat, they were so close. 

“Where’s our home now?”

“Mobile. I’m taking you back with me.” Snafu didn’t let himself tense at the thought of living with his parents, knowing full well about their fortune. “And we’ll get a house together, if that’s too much we’ll make it an apartment, and we’ll get a cat and have a tiny garden out the back.” 

Eugene pressed closer into the warmth of the body next to him, Snafu let him, he marvelled in the way that he could make this boy so pliant with only his hands in his hair. He was entirely his for this moment.

“I’m allergic to cats.”

“A dog, then.”

Snafu dragged his calloused palm through his coppery hair once more, it elicited a sigh from Eugene. The hot hair against the tan column of his throat was dangerously erotic, Snafu almost pulled back. There were more serious matters at hand—Eugene had just proposed a shared future for them both, together. 

“I won’t let your parents pay for us.”

“We won’t, we’ll work. Both of us, we’re going to make it all on our own.”

“That sounds like a thought out plan,” Snafu confessed. Had he triggered himself by indulging this far? Was it unfair to give this boy hope of a future between the two of them when he knew in his very bones that neither of them would make it out of the battle field? 

“Since the second week of being with you,” Eugene whispered against his skin once again, if only his lips weren’t pressed against it. Snafu was having a hard time deciding whether or not he should break the illusion of them surviving this.

“Really? That early?” Snafu had his eyebrows raised but Eugene couldn’t see his expression, his forehead was resting against Snafu’s chin, feeling it move with each syllable. 

“You’ve known that I’m too hopeful.”

Snafu laughed, he wondered if it sounded extra loud to Eugene since he was basically one with his throat, “Never knew that you were so sure of yourself.”  


“Of us, you mean? Of course, I knew I’d get you one way or another.” Eugene replied, his tone was light and fluffy—he was in pure bliss, being with Snafu, curled up in their uniforms, ignoring the stench of rotting limps nearby, feeling the warmth of one radiate into the other. It _was_ bliss, Snafu realised. This is what he’s wanted, he’s finally itching.

“You’ve got me now, Sledgehammer. You’ve got all of me.”

 


End file.
